"Uh, I'm sorry," I offered, hurrying to keep up with her while managing my bag of shit. "Mr. Wainwright just dropped me off and—"
"Stop talking," she ordered, stopping abruptly outside a closed door and spinning to face me. On second look, she wasn't as old as I'd initially placed her. Maybe in her late thirties? The scowl on her face was doing nothing for her skin, though. It was marred with plenty of frown lines across her forehead and around her eyes. "Dean Morgan wanted to introduce you during morning assembly, but that's certainly not happening now." The way she looked me over told me the reason it wasn't happening—not because I was late, but because I looked like a pile of crap
"Sorry," I muttered again, frowning. I sort of wanted to call her out on being a bitch, but I probably shouldn't land myself in trouble before evenseeingmy room.
She rolled her eyes, not even pretending to be polite. "In here you'll find your enrollment pack. Most of it has been filled in by your, uh, guardians. The rest you're required to complete. You'll also find an introductory packet with maps of the grounds, details of your accommodations, and your class schedule. All the important stuff. I suggest you familiarize yourself with it." She paused a moment, her mouth pursed like she'd eaten a lemon. "A senior student will be by after the assembly to show you around."
She unlocked the door with an old-fashioned key—a metal one that actually needed to be inserted in the lock and turned—before standing aside to let me enter. Inside was just a small room with a desk, a couple of chairs, and a potted plant in the corner.
"Any questions?" she asked, then stalked away before even waiting for me to respond.
"Bitch," I muttered after her, watching as she disappeared down the hall before I entered the small room. "Yay, paperwork." I eyed the thick stack on the desk with apprehension. Then again, she did say it had all the information about my classes and accommodations. It was odd to see so much paper—a luxury item—but I was starting to truly understand that the normal rules I’d lived life with over the last eighteen years were not going to work at Arbon.
They had no rules.
Sighing, I slipped my coat over the back of the chair, sat down, and started leafing through it.
An hour and a half later I was confident about two things. One, I hated my class schedule, and two, no one was coming to show me around.
"Fuck it," I muttered, standing up and stretching. "I'll figure it out myself."
After all, I had just been studying a map of the school for an hour. Surely I could handle finding my room without a student guide.
Slinging my ratty bag strap over my shoulder, I left the little office and headed back down the hall in the direction of the front entrance. According to my map, there should be a staircase to the right, and underneath it...
"Perfect," I whispered to myself, locating the restrooms under the stairs, just as they'd been marked on the map. It'd been a long drive up the mountain from the airstrip, and the last thing I needed to do was pee myself when I bumped into my first actual royal.
After taking care of business, I eyed myself in the gold-framed mirror.
I didn't understand why people kept giving me such disgusted looks. My appearance really wasn't that bad at all, considering the amount of travel I'd just endured. I mean sure, the dark shadows under my eyes could use a bit of concealer, and my hair...
Alright. Maybe they had a point.
"Christ on a cracker," I groaned, tugging my hair tie out and running my fingers through the wild blonde mess. "I'd have had better luck sticking my finger in a power socket."
A small laugh startled me, and I turned to look at the pretty redhead who'd just entered the bathrooms so freaking quietly I spared a moment to wonder if I was imagining things.
"Here," she said, digging through her designer handbag, then passing me a tube of product. I eyed it warily, but she just laughed, coming closer to where I stood in front of the mirror. "Just trust me." She rolled her eyes, but smiled.
Still cautious—because so far my reception at Arbon Academy had been less than welcoming—I took the tube of product and peered at the label. All it had on it, though, was some fancy holographic logo and the words "Miracle Balm."
"Miracle, huh?" I murmured.
The redhead arched a sassy brow at me. "You kinda need a miracle for all of that." She indicated to my frizzed-out Sasquatch hair, and I cringed.
She laughed, then headed into a cubicle while I squeezed out a small amount into my hand and went to work smoothing it through my tangled mess of hair. By the time I was finished—after having to squeeze out more product three times—I had to hand it to the girl. It really was a miracle balm.
"Thanks," I said after she finished washing her hands, holding the tube out to her. "You probably saved me some seriously shitty first impressions."
As I said that, I took a better look at her, and my stomach sank. She was gorgeous, perfectly dressed, not a hair out of place—probably thanks to her miracle balm—and holding a black leather handbag that no doubt cost more than an entire year’s rent back home. Chances were, this chick was one of the school bullies.
Contrary to my morbid thoughts, she gave me a genuine smile and shook her head. "Keep it. You need it more than me today." She picked up a plush white hand towel to dry her hands, then tossed it in a little laundry basket. "You must be the new student."
I gave a small nod. I guess it was pretty obvious just by looking at me. "Violet," I introduced myself.
"I'm Mattie," she replied. "Good luck for your first day."
She didn't hang around for any more chitchat, but she also didn't sneer or call me names, so that had to be a win. Right?
